The Flight of Our Constellations
by Li-Naga
Summary: America invites Russia over for some quality star gazing and, as per usual, it all becomes innuendos and abnormalities. But America gets his happy ending… sorta. Warning for horribly flirtatious Russians and American Profanity


Everything was so nice. He had his cup of not-tea, he found his bomber jacket, and finally China stopped bothering him about the damn bill. The stars were bright and shining and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. A nice sleek and very powerful telescope sat on the grass beside him along with a plate of not-scones. Life was good. Living was so lively. His hair was perfect and he didn't even brush it today. How? America. That's how. He was free so his hair should be free. That's right. America shoved another jelly cookie into his mouthed and chased it with his not-tea. Both items were set down carefully so his awesome cat could have some too. He positioned his telescope into a nice patch of clean space and looked through the lenses without the obstruction of Texas. Not that Texas was bad. But, contacts could be extremely useful.

He peered through and immediately went to turning all of the various knobs to try and focus the sights. Slowly little pinpricks of lights and small chromatic oval shapes came into view and he smiled.

"Space is so cool" he thought to himself. Slowly, he moved the telescope; sweeping it carefully across the night sky. His blue eyes found every color and every streak to be a gem. Promising and magical in its natural beauty.

He wished he could do this everyday, but being a country had its highs and lows.

For how long space had captivated him he could not remember. But it brought back memories.

"Engwand, which one is that?" Little fingers thick with baby fat pointed to another random prick of light.

"That's just a regular star, not all of them have names. Just the important ones." England replied easily. "The big bright one all alone is the North Star. Sailors used that one a lot back then, before compasses I mean. And over there… Orion's Belt. Leo, Virgo…There's stories to all the constellations. I'll have to tell you sometime, okay America?" Britain sat up and fumbled with his dress shirt before pulling up his colony with him. He poked America's cute soft nose with a 'boop' and laughed lightly. "It's too late to be out, you'll catch a cold. Maybe another time, okay?"

"Okay, big brother." America replied with a yawn. Huddled next to a warm chest and held so tenderly the little colony was struggling to keep his eyes open. England sighed a bit sadly as those doe eyes closed down for the night.

Sometimes he wished that they had more times like these….

America sighed as he lay in the grass thinking of his colonial days. Bittersweet turning bitter is all they were. Space had a weird way of doing stuff like that to him.

"You can stop sneaking up on me." America leaned back far enough to see the upside down image of a spy. A very tall, very Russian, scarf-clad spy. Oh. He brought coffee. Much better than his not-tea.

"Me? Sneaking up on you? Never, America. When have I ever done you such a scatological thing?"

Without removing his bent-back hold on Russia he pointed swiftly to the sky and deadpanned, "dude, spy satellites remember?"

"Paranoia." Violet eyes winked at him and a small pink tongue stuck out smartly.

America blew back a short raspberry, and fell back to garner a much less awkward position on the grass. "That coffee better be for me."

Thin lips stopped just short of taking a sip and pulled back into a smile. Russia made sure to take an extra long sip. The drink slurped as it disappeared up his puckered lips to add insult to injury. America's eyebrow twitched.

"Gimme that!" He hissed and snatched away what was left in the cup. He looked at it funnily before sniffing around the edges for poisons. It smelled like fresh brew.

One gulp of coffee and he spit it out immediately. The brown liquid coming out in an attractive spray. He stuck out his tongue in disgust. "Bitter!" He cried. "So bitter! What the hell, man?"

"You're just so sweet and your skin is so creamy. I didn't think you'd need either."

"Cut the crap, man! Here!" He shoved the coffee cup into Russia's hands. "You can have it!"

Russia took another sip-more tentative than the last before giggling around the mouth of the cup. He set the cup down and giggled some more- high pitched and creepy. His smile widened and he hid his teeth behind his large hands as his face pinked cutely.

"Hey." America prompted like an irritable cat.

"Hey! Stop that!"

And Russia did. The color in his face receded as well as his hysterical giggling. He redirected his gaze to the moon. It was just a smiling slit against the sky today. Pushed to the side by the orders of the pantheon, probably. He muttered something under his breath.

"What was that? I'd like to hear you say that to my face!"

"_Indirect kiss_." He whispered, louder now. America's face curled into a disgusted frown.

"Pfft." Russia covered his mouth with his hands again. He snorted and giggled to himself."Oh, Amerika! You must stop looking at me like that! Hoo hoo! Want to make that a direct kiss, hmm old friend?" Russia burst into a fit and nearly bowled over with laughter.

"You're gross and your sense of humor is so twisted. When pigs fly, dude." America grimaced. "Just look at the stars with me, that's all you're really good for."

They settled into a nice quiet and peered up at the natural light show set against the black. The occasional streak of a meteor burning against the atmosphere.

"There." Russia pointed to a random spot. "Look to the left of the cluster of three. One of Sputnik's cousins."

America probed the sky for it when he finally saw the weak twinkle of what appeared to be a sliding star. "A satellite! That brings me back. Space Race, one of my proudest and most awesome science-filled years.(minus the fear that is)." He turned his head to the left where Russia was idly sitting in the grass while looking at the sky and listening close. "What's space to you?" He asked, searching his old foe's face. "Hmm?"

Russia didn't look at him. "To be entirely true, I wasn't so enraptured by space as you. I was too busy worrying about rise and fall of empires. You are one who brought me to love it- mysteriousness, its beauty, its vastness. I appreciate it in much the way I appreciate you."

Russia turned to look at his companion and was appalled by the telltale signs of tears making its way onto America's face. They glistened faintly in the scarce light.

"Russia," he beamed while rubbing away the wetness in his eyes. "That was fucking beautiful." He blubbered like a newborn before tackling Russia with a man hug, sending them both toppling over. "Did you say I was beautiful? And mysterious?" He decided to leave the vast part out at the last second. Surely it was a typo of the tongue. "Russia, if you weren't such a flirt I would have probably fallen in love at that Shakespearean goodness. Now watch the stars with me and stop talking. Don't ruin this moment."

"I'll make this moment even better, America." He looked at up at America who was hovering over him in anticipation and smiled genuinely. Ivan grabbed at America's chest and rolled him over so they were just laying side by side. The blond yelped in indignation as he was manhandled so easily. "But later, I will not let you jump my bones with such ease." He chastised.

"That was 100% bro-hug and you know it!" America squawked.

"Sshh, lapushka." Russia hushed as he smothered the indignant child with large, gloved hands; effectively cutting off his air supply and his speech in turn. "Do not ruin moment." He whispered soothingly as the other nation replied with muffled yells and struggling. Russia's grip tightened like an eagle does on a slimy fish. He tugged him over so they were sandwiched on top of each other like planks and squeezed, hard. "You know you love me." He kissed his forehead chastely. Then again, and again. "Come on America, spy satellites aren't watching. You can stop being so cold." He teased.

America just turned away even further and crossed his arms. Had there been light out Russia would have been able to see pink dusting his face. "I knew you wouldn't be able to handle star-gazing, dude. Alls' you want to gaze at is me and you can barely see!"

"Ok, ok," Russia acquiesced. "But I _am_ star gazing," he insisted. "_you are my star_-"

"Oh my gosh, stop flirting with me!" America struggled out of his grip and stomped over to his telescope that he had been meaning to put to good use. "Geez, I can't believe you." He peered through his telescope again and saw the lights he loved so much. Arcturus, Jupiter glowed like a beacon as well as bright Mars. The dying red flare of Betelgeuse, Andromeda, Perseus. He got an eyeful of constellations and felt names he'd memorized resurface. Ever present Draco, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, the Hydra, Cancer; they shown like silver against the sky, yet, he couldn't enjoy it completely.  
"Russia, com'ere, It doesn't feel right if I invited you and you don't even look at anything." He sighed and turned away to see Russia's dark silouhette shift near. "Can you tell me about your stars, too?" America wondered aloud.

"I wasn't as enthusiastic in fantasizing about the stories of stars as Greeks, but I can tell you one. We don't need the telescope so lay down." America complied and soon they were huddled up next to each other once more-though more willingly- as Russia spoke of their shared sky.

"I can tell you the slavic story of the Zoryi- it is one that first comes to mind." He paused here to pull America closer and point towards a constellation. "It starts near 'bear' constellations. See those two stars by the bear?" He paused and America nodded.

"Yeah." America acted just like a colony, so easily amused, and Russia turned on his story-telling voice. The same one he used to use for the Romanov children so long ago.

"They are the daughters of the powerful sun, Dazhbog, and shine as he cannot against the night. They are both named Zorya, one a goddess of dusk, the other, dawn."  
He stopped to adjust his arm to gesture around the Ursas. America was already so engrossed by the story that he tried to catch every accented syllable, every night-shaded movement. His eyes followed Russia's arm.

"Both Zoryi have a very important task- they are guards that protect the world from a dark apocalypse. That cluster of stars there- the one you call 'little bear' is actually a nameless hound with great destruction as its one duty. He is chained forever to the stars there, the constellation Ursa Major. The Zoryi must watch carefully for if the hell hound breaks loose, the world will come to an end. The Hound snarls at them constantly, but they always remain- reliable as the stars that represent them. All year long, my people can see them. Knowing that as long as the sisters shine, the earth will remain." Russia finished with a sigh. "Did you like it?" He questioned Alfred who seemed to still be enraptured by the timeless story.

"How did the Hound become chained?" America asked. 'So endearing!' Russia nearly swooned. America was being so cute!

"I heard from a variation that in beginning of the universe the Hound ran free, preventing anything from taking form. The old gods created many stars and shackled him to them to allow their more fragile creations to finally come into being and thrive."

"Really? Dude, your creation myths are awesome." America yawned as looked at the sky again. The stars blurred and their light stretched as his eyes watered with sleep. He burrowed closer to Russia and shut his eyes against the blooming warmth of his thick coat.

"Tired, dorogoy? Let's go back inside, now. We star gazed enough."

America just moaned grumpily and pulled his headrest closer.

"Ah! You look so cute! If only I could stuff you in this position and keep you forever!" Russia squealed.

America shoved him away with a grumble and mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like, "Stop flirting with me god dammit!" Russia just giggled as he hefted The disgruntled nation over his shoulder and trekked back to their cabin. America half-heartedly punching his back all the while.

A/N: partially dedicated to yestoomanyfandoms as a reply to a need for fluffy rusame star gazing fun times. Also dedicated to the great baes of the world and all the stupid things they do. Russia being a ridiculous flirt is a head canon that I hold dear- the thicker he lay it on the more attractive he becomes. Alfred just can't handle all that hella smoothness all the time, now can he?


End file.
